Same Old Lang Syne
by Melanie Geller
Summary: After years apart, Monica and Chandler meet up in the most unlikely circumstances on Christmas Eve. Please Review!


_**Okay, okay. A new fic is not what I need right now. But guess what? Standalone!!! LOL so there. I have an excuse. And besides, what kind of writer would I be if I didn't post some kind of Christmas story? Huh? lol.**_

**_Anyway, thanks for all the reviews on my other fics, and be prepared for a gigantic update come the new year. :)_**

**_This is pretty much AU, and the song I use in here is 'Same old Lang Syne' by Dan Fogelberg. It's a Christmas song, lol, I swear. I just keep hearing it on the radio, so I had to do something with it. Originally, I was going to write it for R/R, but decided on M/C. And they're the ONLY characters in this one. So, M/C fans rejoice, and R/R fans, I've got you covered with the next updates. ;)_**

**_Disclaimer: I don't own much. LOL and I haven't done one of these in a very long time._**

**_And in case anyone is curious, I think Auld Lang Syne means something like "yesterday, or time gone by". lol, something to that extent. _**

**_Also, if it seems sad, please keep reading. Who knows? It might get better and you just might want to be kind and leave me a review. :)_**

_Met my old lover in the grocery store._

_The snow was falling Christmas Eve._

_I stole behind her in the frozen foods,_

_And I touched her on the sleeve_

Of all the places he could have seen her again…of all the times they would have crossed paths again. He never thought it would be in the grocery store. He never thought it would be on Christmas Eve. Hell, he never thought he'd be able to see her face again after they had parted.

But there she was, pondering over frozen TV dinners like it would really matter one day. Her hair looked silken and healthy, her body the same small form. He wanted to reach out and stroke her hair in a gesture to reassure himself that she was indeed two feet away and not the thousand miles that he had led himself to believe.

"Monica?" he whispered timidly, not knowing where this conversation would lead.

The woman turned around and stared at him, a searching look glazing her eyes. For a moment, he was prepared to flee and pretend he had never seen her…prepared to go back and live the life he had become so accustomed to.

It was then that she recognized him, the man that had meant so much to her in the past; the man that she had left behind and deemed only a "college love"; the man that she hadn't allowed herself to think about until this very moment.

"Chandler!" she squealed and threw her arms around his neck, abandoning her purse for his arms. "Oh my God! What are you doing here?"

He smiled at her as she noticed that the corners around his eyes still crinkled when he grinned. "Well, the same thing as you are, I guess. Grabbing some last minute groceries."

Actually, his intention had been to grab some beer and hit the road. He had no family and barely any true friends. Christmas was only another night of the year that he had to spend alone and relish in the darkness of his home.

Monica pulled away from him, dropping the contents of her purse in the middle of the aisle. "Crap!" Her face reddened to the color of the cranberries in her cart as she bent down to pick up an array of lipsticks, hair clips, and spare change.

"Here, let me help you," Chandler kneeled down beside her and started to gather the miscellaneous items into a pile atop the dusty linoleum.

"Thanks." She looked into his sky blue eyes and felt her heart melt. Why, why, why did she leave him so many years ago? If he still had the power to make her heart flutter and her hands sweaty, then why was she with a man whose dull voice made her want to fall asleep?

_She didn't recognize the face at first,_

_But then her eyes flew open wide._

_She went to hug me and she spilled her purse,_

_And we laughed until we cried._

After the purse was intact, Chandler took it upon himself to initiate a real conversation. "So, how have you been?"

"I've been good, yeah, really good." She fumbled uncomfortably with the tassels on her purse.

"So, are you…" As he began, she placed her left hand on his knee, displaying a modestly extravagant looking diamond ring. "Oh."

"Yeah. Four years."

"Wow…that's…"

"Final, I know." She averted her eyes towards the ground

"Well, that is what you always wanted, isn't it?" Chandler questioned, bridging the past to the present.

"Yeah," she remarked with a hint of uncertainty. "It is."

"Hey," he began, changing the subject. "Do you remember that one Christmas when we got locked out of the apartment?"

Immediately, she began to laugh. "Of course, how could I forget? I was so mad at you because you lost the key! I had planned the night out perfectly. We were already behind schedule, and-"

"You and your schedules," laughed Chandler, his sandy brown hair falling into his eyes.

"But it's true! We were so behind, and all I wanted to do was cook that turkey and sit by the fireplace. I remember perfectly: at seven, we were supposed to be eating dinner and listening to some soft music. And then we would clean up and…you know. For the first time."

He knew. Oh, did he ever know. The most supposed-to-be most romantic night of his life had turned into a dysfunctional National Lampoon's Christmas. Of course, he hadn't known her plans for that night.

"But our Christmas did turn out pretty good, didn't it?" he remarked, remembering a night nearly ten years prior.

"Yeah, it did," she stated dreamily. "I remember you had your guitar with you…and you," she began to laugh, "serenaded me under that big oak tree, didn't you?"

He grinned. "Hey now, I thought you liked that!"

"I never said I didn't. It was very romantic, Chandler. It was just funny, too."

Thirty minutes later, still on the floor and talking, they sat. His arm was creeping dangerously close to her knee, and Monica wasn't having the least bit of trouble sitting less than six inches away.

"Shoppers, it is now five-fifty-five. Closing time is at six, so please bring all your items to check-out now."

Monica looked around the store and laughed. "Um, I think they're talking to me."

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, we're the only people left in the store right now."

"That does make sense," he laughed.

She gathered up her groceries, and the two proceeded to check out.

_We took her groceries to the check out stand,_

_The food was totaled up and bagged._

_We stood there lost in our embarrassment,_

_As the conversation dragged._

"So," he began as they headed out the automatic doors. "I guess this is it."

"Yeah. It was nice seeing you, Chandler." Monica didn't want him to go. There were so many questions left unanswered, so many things left to talk about, so much left unsaid. But still, he gave her a polite hug and began to walk away through the drifting snow.

"Wait!" she cried out, the shrillness of her plea breaking the silence barrier and awkwardness between them.

Slowly, he pivoted and smiled at her. Not even asking any questions, he headed back over and simply gazed into her eyes. "Yeah?"

"Um," she fumbled with the two grocery bags in her hands. "Do you want to…go get a drink or something?"

He didn't understand her correctly. Get a drink? But what about her husband? "Huh?"

"You know…get a drink with me?"

"But it's Christmas Eve…what about your husband?"

She sighed, "I'll tell you the story on the way."

_We went to have ourselves a drink or two,_

_But we couldn't find an open bar._

_We bought a six-pack at the liquor store,_

_And we drank it in her car._

Snow quilted the windshield of her shiny red Mercedes. The white blanket covering the car made both of them feel safe, as in the days when they both were younger.

"I really can't believe I saw you tonight in a frozen food section," Chandler commented. "You used to love cooking."

"Yeah, well, when you're just cooking for yourself it's not as much fun." She took a swig of her beer and delicately placed it back into the cup holder.

"What about your what's-his-name? Your husband?" It's not like Chandler was meaning to be disrespectful or anything, yet the fact that she was married did not sit well with him. The girl of his dreams, the one who haunted his nightmares still to this day…she couldn't be married. In the back of his forlorn conscience, a part of him wished to believe that the two would one day reunite, one day regain the happiness that both had felt so strongly in those carefree college days.

"Oh. Glen. He's out of town on business, but he'll be back late tonight. He called me and asked if I'd make cranberry sauce and turkey. He'll never know the difference if it's a frozen dinner." She stated duly.

"Glen?" Chandler snorted and almost choked on his drink. "You married a man named Glen?"

"Well, I almost married a man named Chandler!" Immediately after the words were spat from her crimson lips, she regretted them. With their seemingly happy past came a longing sense of nostalgia and lament. She didn't mean to bring up the subject, yet once she had uttered the words that pained her soul, there was no going back.

"Yeah. I know." Chandler stared out the frosted window with mock interest. "I used to be him."

"No, Chandler, I didn't mean it like that. I was just…"

"I know. It's okay. How about we don't talk about the past." He pretended not to notice as tears of sorrow stung her eyes. "Let's talk about the future, okay? So what does your husband do?"

"Oh. He's an architect." She droned. Chandler thought he heard a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but decided not to say anything.

"That sounds…interesting."

"Sure. Whatever you say."

"Well, I thought you always wanted someone who could keep you safe with a secure job. Remember? You wanted a man that could keep a steady income and give you the perfect life you always wanted. Based off this car, it seems like you got your wish." What he didn't say was how her needs for a man with a steady job, a man that could keep her safe and dry were the driving forces behind their break-up.

"Yeah. I got my wish." Monica brushed an adamant lock of hair from her eyes and let her mind drift.

"So here's a toast," Chandler raised his can of beer. "To the lives we have now."

And the life we left behind, she silently lamented as she brought her mug closer to Chandler's. The life left behind had the prospect of a future. Ironically, the life she now led was the same every day. Wake up, cook Glen breakfast, kiss Glen goodbye, sit at home all day, wait for Glen to get home, make Glen dinner, go to bed. As she thought about it, Monica came to realize that the majority of her day revolved around Glen and his needs. What about her needs? What about the fact that she had traded her life and job and love for a man that told her she didn't need to work and all she had to do was stay home and lead the perfect life.

If only someone would have told her that a life of perfection could lead to a life of nostalgia and living only for the memories.

_We drank a toast to innocence,_

_We drank a toast to now._

_And tried to reach beyond the emptiness,_

_But neither one knew how._

_She said she married her an architect,_

_Who kept her warm and safe and dry._

_She would have liked to say she loved the man,_

_But she didn't like to lie._

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," he began cautiously, not knowing the boundaries he should set with a married woman, "you still look great. I mean, not much has changed."

"Thanks. I don't know if I should take that as a compliment, though, or an insult."

"Why would you take it as an insult?" he questioned.

"Well, ten years from now, would you want someone else to notice that your life hasn't changed much from the last time they saw you?" Getting her point across in a discreet way wasn't as easy as Monica had intended.

"I don't know…I really don't know, Mon." He went to set his drink down and accidentally brushed his hand against her leg. "Sorry," he blushed.

"That's okay."

"Good."

They sat in an awkward silence for a few moments, each not wanting to breach an uncomfortable subject. In a way, though, the silence soothed them, reminded them of the times when they would lay in bed and listen to the rain pound against the unsteady apartment roof. Rich, they were not, but they had the one thing they needed to get by.

"So, I guess your dream of writing music finally came true." Monica commented, rather than asking him.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that." Chandler was a semi-popular recording artist, making enough money to get by yet not placing himself in the middle of the public eye. He lived privately in a large but modest New York penthouse apartment. Why he had traveled all the way out to Scarsdale to but his groceries, he would never know. Maybe it had something to do with seeing her again; maybe a part of him knew that he needed to get away from the hustle and bustle of the uncaring city. All Chandler knew was that he was sitting in a car with the woman he had loved with all of his heart.

"I saw your CD the other day in the store. I bought it, you know."

"Really?" he pretended not to be interested. "Do you like it?"

"It's alright," Monica confessed. "I actually liked the stuff you used to sing better. You know, the songs that you used to sing to me."

Softly, he sighed. "Yeah. I know which ones you're talking about."

"Do you still remember how they go?" Her voice was earnest and her heart longed to hold onto a memory of her past.

"No," he lied as her heart fell. "I forgot the words a long time ago."

_I said the years had been a friend to her,_

_And that her eyes were still as blue._

_But in those eyes I wasn't sure if I saw,_

_Doubt or gratitude._

_She said she saw me in the record stores,_

_And that I must be doing well._

_I said the audience was heavenly,_

_But the traveling was hell._

_We drank a toast to innocence,_

_We drank a toast to now._

_And tried to reach beyond the emptiness,_

_But neither one knew how._

**_-Ten Years Prior, Christmas Eve-_**

"Chandler? Do you have the key to the apartment?" Monica nervously paced back and forth across the small, cramped landing.

"Uh, no. I thought you had it." His hair was lighter and he carried a guitar case, an indicant that they had just gotten back from one of his shows.

"Sweetie, I gave them to you!" she nervously lied, not wanting him to know that she had faults like everyone else.

"Really? I could have sworn you had them."

"No," she tapped her foot impatiently on the ground. "I handed them to you."

"Well. Then I guess we'll just have to stay out here." He smiled as she became frantic.

"But it's nearly six! I still have to prepare dinner, and a bunch of other stuff! We'll be stuck out here in the cold all night!"

"Hon, you have three coats on, have two blankets in your hand, and I'm sweating. I really doubt we'll freeze to death. And besides, if you want, we can still go to your parent's house. I'm sure they wouldn't mind."

Almost instantly, her mind changed. "Actually, I'm okay. We can just sit out here."

"Okay. But do you really want to spend Christmas Eve sitting outside our apartment?"

"Well…what do you think we should do?"

His blue eyes crinkled and sparkled as he held out his spare hand. "Come with me."

As they made their way across campus, Monica's eyes flew open wide. "Here?"

In front of them stood a small bench under a massive oak tree dripping with snowflakes. The streetlight added a surreal glow to the postcard-worthy sight, and the white snow seemed incandescent.

He mentally slapped himself. "Why? Is this not a good place? I mean, we can go back and I can try and find the landlord to open th-"

"Shut up and kiss me." She ran her hands through his hair as he was startled by her sudden display of affection. Not startled, actually, but surprised. Monica wasn't the type to kiss in public, but seeing as it was nighttime and no one was around…well, he was thrilled to say the least.

A minute later, he pulled away. "Wow."

She smiled and playfully stroked the soft area between his neck and shoulders. "What? It's not like I've never kissed you before."

"I know…but that…"

"Yeah," she said, searching his eyes. "I know."

He set down his guitar case by the bench and led her to sit down. "After you."

"Aww," she cooed, wrapping the fleece blankets tightly around her. "You're so sweet."

Expertly, he opened up his guitar case and strummed a few chords, preparing himself to sit down on the ground.

"Sweetie!" Monica screeched as Chandler started to sit down on the ground. "Sit up here, you'll get snow all over you!"

"I don't care, though," he smiled and spoke softly. "I promised this Christmas would be the best one ever, and I want to sing you a song I wrote."

"Can't you sing it up here?"

"I could. But I want to watch your face as I sing."

"That's so sweet."

He sang her songs about love, songs about life, songs about nothing in general that just made her smile. When he was done, Monica felt sad, almost as if she knew that that Christmas would be the last they spent together.

Later that night, they lay on the blanket, which was soaked through and through, and watched the snow fall softly and hit the ground with an understated silence.

"I love you, Monica," he whispered in her ear.

"I love you, too." She snuggled closer into him, satisfied with the way her night had turned out.

"Marry me." It wasn't exactly something he said on impulse; he had been thinking about asking her for quite awhile. After all, they did live together and had been dating for almost two years. Then why did it surprise him when the words flew out of his mouth?

"What?" She sat up as her jaw dropped open.

"Marry me," he said with more confidence. This was what he wanted, and he was sure of it.

"Oh my God." Her eyes began to well up as she threw herself on top of him. "Yes! Of course!"

He kissed her tenderly and brushed her tears away with his gloved knuckles. Together, they lay in the golden darkness and awaited their future with anticipation.

Little did they know, the day would never come for them.

_**-Present Time-**_

"Do you ever think about what happened to us?" Monica wondered.

"Yeah. Sometimes."

"Yeah?"

"No. All the time, actually. For the first few years after you left me, I would wonder every day what I did wrong. I would play out situations in my head, wondering had played my cards differently if we'd still be together today."

"It wasn't your fault, you know." She twisted her wedding ring nervously around her finger. "It was mine. I wanted too much and couldn't see what I already had."

"Well, you know, we can't change the past, Mon."

"Yeah. I know."

"It's just like they say: It's better to have loved and lost then to never have loved at all."

"You know, I really don't know anyone who really says that…" she trailed off.

"You know me," his face cocked into a half-grin. Or at least you used to, he thought.

He watched her eyes and could tell she was thinking about the past. She squinted and mentally debated on what to say. Finally, she decided. "It was me, you know. Who lost the keys."

Now she had completely lost him. "Huh?"

"That night…when we were locked out of the apartment. I lost the keys. I never gave them to you, but didn't want to admit it."

He smiled. "I know."

"You knew?"

"I'm afraid to say that I did. But as long as we're confessing things…Well, all of the songs on my albums…Listen closely and most of them are about you."

"Wow. Thanks."

"No. Thank you."

She checked her watch. "Well, Chandler, it's eight. I can't stay here all night; Glen's plane comes in at nine and I have to go pick him up."

"I understand. But before I go, can I do something?"

"What?"

He moved in closer and kissed her on the lips, igniting the flame they had so long ago. A moment later, she pulled away, lamenting. "Chandler, I'm married. I can't do this."

"I know. But who knows if I'll ever see you again?"

After considering his words, she moved in and kissed him again with a fiercer passion then before. "I'll always love you, but I can't stay. I have a family now."

"I thought you didn't have any kids."

"Not yet. But Glen wants to start trying."

"Oh. Congrats."

"Thanks."

He opened the door and told her goodbye. "I'll be thinking about you."

"And I'll be thinking of you."

"Bye, Monica."

"Goodbye, Chandler."

He walked away into the falling snow just in time to miss the tears forming in her eyes. Had he looked behind him, he would have seen her crying and resting her head against the steering wheel, cursing herself for letting him go.

_We drank a toast to innocence_

_We drank a toast to time_

_Reliving in our eloquence_

_Another 'auld lang syne.'_

_The beer was empty and our tongues were tired_

_And running out of things to say._

_She gave a kiss to me as I got out_

_And watched her drive away._

Chandler headed towards his car, head hung low and tears in his eyes. For a moment, he looked up and saw the two of them ten years ago, making love in the snow under the old oak tree.

_But those were only the memories. And those were all he had._

_Just for a moment I was back at school_

_And felt that old familiar pain_

_And as I turned to make my way back home_

_The snow turned into rain_

**_-Two Years Later-_**

"And now, for the first world broadcast of a new song by the hit singer/song-writer, Chandler Bing!" The radio broadcaster's voice boomed through the quaint, colonial style house. "I have Chandler here with me right now to talk about the meaning behind this song. Chandler?"

"Hi. Thanks for having me."

"It's a pleasure. Now, I understand that this song is about an experience that actually happened to you one year ago today."

"That's right."

"Do you care to elaborate?"

Silence was broadcasted over the airwaves for a moment as the avid listener in the colonial home stopped feeding her newborn baby girl.

"Chandler?"

"Sorry. It's just kind of a sensitive subject."

"Okay, then. We'll play the song."

_Met my old lover in the grocery store_

_The snow was falling, Christmas Eve_

_I stole behind her in the frozen foods_

_And touched her on her sleeve._

Monica felt her heart pound faster as she listened to the words that she had lived.

_She didn't recognize the face at first_

_But then her eyes flew open wide_

_She went to hug me and she spilled her purse_

_And we laughed until we cried._

Tears filled her eyes as man dressed in a blue sweater entered through the French doors. "Hey, ladies."

"Hey, sweetie." She wiped her eyes free of tears, not wanting him to see she had been crying.

He walked over to her and kissed her on the lips. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing…it's just."

He tilted his head and listened to the song on the radio, smiling. "What's wrong? Did my song make you cry?"

"No," she lied and looked down at their sleeping daughter. "I'm just…so happy…that McKenzie is drinking her bottle."

"Liar," he grinned. "You just like listening to this tape, don't you?"

One year ago, when the song was first released, Monica had been spending Christmas with her then-husband Glen. Upon hearing the words and feeling the impact, she had left him in search of Chandler. Deep in her heart, she knew she couldn't live without him, and nor could he without her.

She had taped the worldwide broadcast and had made something of a tradition out of listening to it each Christmas.

Later that night, they lay by the fire after McKenzie went to sleep.

"Hey, Chandler?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Can you do something for me?"

"Anything."

"Sing to me like you did a long time ago."

He grabbed her hand and helped her up.

"What are you doing?"

He smiled. "Taking you outside to sing to you like I did a long time ago."

"But the baby…"

He grabbed the monitor, his guitar, and grinned. "Anything else?"

Once outside, they sat down underneath a large oak tree, Chandler on the snow covered ground, and Monica on the bench.

"What do you want me to sing?"

She smiled. "I think you know."

"Remind me."

In a small voice, she began to sing. "Met my old lover in a grocery store. The snow was falling Christmas Eve..."

"Oh, that one! Well, I had no idea you liked it."

She grinned pulled him up on the bench next to her.

"I thought you wanted me to sing to you. Wha-"

"Shut up and kiss me."

They stayed wrapped up in the others arms for quite awhile. And, unlike before, neither were bothered when the snow turned into rain.

----

**_Yeah, I know. I actually made it happy. And trust me, I wasn't going to. At all. It was originally going to end after Chandler got into his car or whatever, but I felt like they should be together. Let me know if this was a good ending. _**

**_Thank you for reading, and please take the time to leave me a quick review!_**

**_Happy holidays!_**

**_Mel_**


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